


Awaiting the rise of a complicit moon

by Shatteeran



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Getting Together, Good Theo Raeken, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Liam Dunbar, Post-Episode: s06e20 The Wolves of War, Protective Liam Dunbar, Sad Theo Raeken, Theo Raeken-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatteeran/pseuds/Shatteeran
Summary: “You planned this,” the chimera claimed, too worn out to be truly harsh. He still scowled at the bag of Cadbury’s Caramello Koalas, Theo’s favorite, which Liam had revealed from behind a cushion. Liam waited until Theo had popped one into his mouth to answer.“Want to tell me what the fight was about?” Theo’s eyes narrowed, and he made a show of chewing to hide the sudden tick in his square jaw. “That’s okay, I can tell you what happened,” Liam continued, ignoring Theo’s affronted muffles, “You and Zoey are over, aren’t you?”
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Theo Raeken/Original Character(s) (mentioned)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	Awaiting the rise of a complicit moon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware this may be a bit... peculiar, but this is also the most personal thing I've ever written for a fandom, and posted online.   
> It's important to me - precious, even.  
> So, please, be kind, if you choose to leave a comment. I'll happily take any constructive criticism about this work, but don't bring this wide-eyed messenger down, okay?
> 
> Also, my personal soundtrack for this story: Maybe Don't - Maisie Peters (feat. JP Saxe).
> 
> Hope you like this bit!

Liam didn’t raise his head when Theo’s key finally turned into the apartment’s lock. He didn’t get up from his slumped position on the couch. In fact, he didn’t move at all. The chimera had been hanging outside, trying to muster the nerve to walk in, long enough for Liam to pick up on his elevated heartbeat, for his wolf nose to burn with the sour stinges of his roommate’s frustration. Just like he had known he would also pick up the salted scent of underlying sadness wafting from Theo, when the other man inevitably stepped into the living-room.

From his central position on the ratty couch, Liam inconspicuously followed Theo’s progression toward their kitchenette. He flicked his eyes back to his laptop when Theo’s glass of water clank on the way down to the countertop, quashed the urge to squirm under the stormy grey gaze. Theo gulped loudly as he emptied his glass, and Liam could so easily picture the jut of his throat, bobbing with each dramatic swallow, that he almost rolled his eyes. He stayed put instead, counted backwards from twenty, as he let the chimera come to him and fall right into the trap that he’d set out for him.

Right on cue, Theo shuffled around the small kitchen island, foregoing to turn the overhead lights out. Just as he was dragging his feet behind the backrest, Liam twitched and stretched. The laptop wobbled on his knee. And captured Theo’s attention.

If he hadn’t been expecting it, Liam wouldn’t have caught the slight gasp in Theo’s following intake of air. But he was entirely focused on the other’s reactions. Reigning in his rising heartbeat, he refrained a pleased smile when Theo loomed over him, his presence a comforting weight above Liam’s shoulders. On the screen, Matt Damon stood proudly in his Massachusetts State Police uniform. Being the bait.

Liam could have gone with a few different movies to get Theo to sit down with him, but none would ever be as effective as The Departed. Climbing over the couch, the chimera scooted toward the screen, like an insect toward a light source in the middle of the night: his lit-up eyes never left the scene playing on Liam’s laptop. Theo’s nose wrinkled as they settled back next to one another, still not a word exchanged between them. The older man was probably suspicious, but calling Liam out on his, seemingly random, choice of entertainment for the evening would have required breaking the silence. Eventually, Theo decided against it, just as Liam had bet that he would.

Instead, the chimera removed his shoes, pulled off his socks, and slid his feet on the coffee table. Looking for a fight to avoid a discussion. Unsuspecting of the amount of preparation Liam had undergone for the evening. Theo Raeken’s usual bag of tricks, tactics and distractions wouldn’t work on his roommate, ally and friend that night. Still, Liam used the proffered opportunity to glance at him, to take in the state of disarray of his usually perfectly styled hair. Or, at least, it had been, back when Theo had left the flat less than an hour ago. Liam observed as he passed a nervous hand through his locks, mussing them even more. His button-down shirt was rumpled, half-untucked from his black jeans. Everything in Theo’s demeanor and appearance screamed messy, uncontrolled turn of events.

Eventually, Liam’s gaze floated back toward the movie, leaving Theo to stew with his own thoughts, and giving him enough time to simmer down at his own pace, surrounded by their combined scents in the safe space they had made for themselves in Santa Clara. When Theo’s chemo signals finally evened out, Liam went for the kill.

“You planned this,” the chimera claimed, too worn out to be truly harsh. He still scowled at the bag of Cadbury’s Caramello Koalas, Theo’s favorite, which Liam had revealed from behind a cushion. Liam simply shook the package invitingly and bit his cheek when Theo’s hand plunged to retrieve a few chocolate candies. The purple and yellow plastic rustled under his greedy fingers. He waited until Theo had popped one into his mouth to answer.

“Want to tell me what the fight was about?” Theo’s eyes narrowed, and he made a show of chewing to hide the sudden tick in his square jaw. Yet another reaction Liam had been counting on. “That’s okay, I can tell you what happened,” he continued, ignoring Theo’s affronted muffles, “You and Zoey are over, aren’t you?”

The chimera visibly deflated. Liam allowed him to steal the laptop, to pretend-watch Leonardo Di Caprio’s freak out, to use the screen, both as a physical barrier and a mirror to his heightened state; but he plowed on. “She said it, didn’t she?”

Theo paused the movie. The mechanic noise of the space key resounded in the room, long after Theo had aggressively pressed it. He struggled with his words for a bit, gaped, in an almost comical way for the formidable foe he used to be.

“How?” is what he finally decided upon. Liam shrugged.

“She smelled like it,” he stated, to the point. Bluntness would be his only chance of success. “She had this way of looking at you, too…”

“I regret ever teaching you about chemo signals.”

“It wasn’t my business to tell,” Liam replied to Theo’s veiled accusation. “And besides…” Theo resumed the film, dismissively turning back toward the display. Liam clicked on the stop button the very next second. “And besides,” he insisted, “it’s not like it would have changed the outcome.”

“Yeah?” Theo taunted, smirk revealing just enough teeth for Liam’s competitive streak to summersault in his belly. Any other night, he would have snarked: “You’ve gotten soft, Raeken. You’re a lot more predictable than you used to be!”, and he would have been ready to fight back within an inch of his life, when Theo launched himself at him to tickle his sides.

“It happened with Leilah,” Liam said, tone carefully neutral, “six months ago; and Kaede, last February. Before that, it was Michele. And, before that, Jer. And before we moved here, Catalina for a short while, then Paul, then Liz…”

Theo petulantly stuffed his mouth with another chocolate koala and tried to press play once more. Liam wrenched the laptop away from his roommate, and tucked it away, between his back and the armrest.

“I have a working theory,” he announced.

“Would be the first time,” Theo scoffed, but the insult lacked the original bite. They had for a while.

“Zoey,” Liam hazarded, “she told you tonight. And you couldn’t handle it. You baited her into a fight. Just like you’ve been trying to do with me since you came back from your date.” Theo glowered at him. Liam clamped down on his own annoyance. “And then, you left her no other choice but to break up with you.”

Liam registered the flare of Theo’s nostrils before his anger got the best of him: the chimera exploded from the couch and sharply turned on his heels. A few wrapped candies bounced under the coffee table.

“And what the hell do you know, Dumb-bar?”

It took everything in Liam to avoid reacting to the provocation. His wolf wanted nothing more than a vehement face-off, a vicious escalation, and a violent release. It would have been so easy to fall back into the familiar push-and-pull.

“You did teach me about chemo signals a while ago,” he said, sitting very still. “I observed. Collected clues. I paid attention.”

He had chosen his words, copying Theo’s turn of phrase on purpose, a trick he’d learnt from the young man himself in the early years of their tentative friendship. His carefulness provoked the desired effect: consciously surprised and subconsciously subdued, Theo sighed. Mollified, he just seemed lost. Liam’s heart clenched as Theo fidgeted in the middle of the living-room. His uncertainty reminded Liam of a more skittish version of the chimera, freshly raised from his own personal Hell. Theo shifted his weight to his other leg.

“I still haven’t told you my theory,” Liam carried on, patting the seat next to him on the couch cushion.

Theo hesitated, clearly considered flipping Liam off – if the tremor of his fingers was anything to go by – and running away to cloister himself in his room. But Liam could follow Theo’s train of thoughts with the sweep of the man’s gaze: Liam had purposefully selected The Departed; Liam had preemptively purchased one of his favorite treats. His curiosity was picked. Liam had truly and well cornered him, and the clutch was about to close. Theo took his place on the couch.

“A long time ago, something terrible happened to a little boy,” Liam started. “He was taken away from his home, told terrible lies, and terrorized into submission. Then, he was released, and unleashed against everyone who ever loved him.”

Theo snorted. He swiped a chocolate candy from the carpet, picked at the wrapping with his nails. But he didn’t eat it. He was listening.

“He was weak,” Liam spoke, softer, “and afraid. And he turned the only strength he had at his disposal, the love and trust of those closer to him, into a weapon.”

“Are you going somewhere with this? I’m tired, and I’d like to see the end of the movie.” Liam ignored the poor attempt at a diversion.

“He paid dearly for his deeds. Since, he’s wanted to belong. To be lo- “

“Liam,” Theo said, his exaggerated articulation both a warning and a threat. Liam winced. Self-preservation, however, had never been one of their virtues. He carefully placed his palm over Theo’s fingertips, shutting down the crinkling sound of the tortured aluminum foil. The chimera didn’t shrug him off, although he still avoided Liam’s stare. The undertones of sadness in the air turned offensive to the wolf’s nose, as if they’d started to rot with Theo’s misery. Liam grinded his teeth: for all his agonizing over his chosen course of actions, he hadn’t been prepared for how much Theo’s discomfort would affect him. He shook his head, closed his fist around Theo’s fingers, possibly harming him more in the process: he knew the chimera would welcome the distraction.

“You won’t let yourself be,” Liam spat out. “The responsibility. The power it would give you over whomever…” He marked a pause, gave Theo an opportunity to cut him off again, then he pushed forward: “Whomever trusts you,” he finished. “You can’t deal with it. You’re scared of what you’re going to do to them. So, you hurt them and make them leave you, before you have a chance to hurt them even more.”

Theo didn’t say anything. Liam couldn’t tell if he was even breathing. Maybe Liam wasn’t, either.

“Zoey loves you, doesn’t she?”

It was apparently the nudge Theo needed. He looked up, eyes wide, and finally met Liam’s watchful gaze. Liam’s breath caught at the sight: never such an unguarded expression had flashed across his friend’s face. Shock, shame and pain marred his features, and the rawness hit Liam in his guts. For the first time that night, he let himself wonder if Theo loved her, too. It hadn’t been relevant until now; Theo should have been told these truths anyway. The older man got up, staggered away toward his bedroom. Liam watched him retreat mutely, trying to assemble the courage to go on. Words were always difficult, but he had underestimated their heaviness on his chest, and their sharpness on his tongue.

“I have another story,” he called, heart aching, voice rising with his panic.

Theo stilled, but didn’t glance back.

“It’s the story of a boy with a ten-year plan.”

“Eight.”

“What?” The confusion offered Liam a quick respite from the guilt and the apprehension. Momentarily, their flat felt like a home, again.

“Eight years. I was seventeen when I came back to Beacon Hills,” Theo explained, and Liam finally understood the quid pro quo.

“Not all stories are about you,” he breathed out, falling short of the intended teasing. “It’s about a boy, who meets a girl, in the third grade.” Theo bristled.

“Stiles!? Now you want to talk about Stiles?”

Liam quirked an eyebrow. Theo groaned. Liam cocked his head. Theo shook his. Liam blinked. Theo sat back on the couch.

“Do you know how Stiles got Lydia in the end?”

“By wearing her out?”

“Resilience.”

“Po-ta-to, po-tah-to,” Theo sniffed disdainfully. He was closing himself off, aiming for harmless bantering instead of listening. Liam rushed out to get to his point; his agitation pulled his t-shirt taut on his back. He shivered when the sudden movement plastered the cold sweat against the skin between his shoulder blades.

“He knew he loved her. But she wasn’t ready,” he said. The word choice caught Theo’s attention. Two treacherous hearts skipped a beat in unison. Liam took advantage of Theo’s immobility. “So, he bid his time,” he resumed in a soft voice, careful not to jiggle his sweaty palm around Theo’s hand, least the sensation disturbs their fragile truce. “He didn’t always make his interest clear, but he also never let her forget that she was special to him. Meanwhile, she dated Jackson, Ethan, Parrish… He dated other girls, too.”

“One other girl,” the chimera corrected, still too playful for Liam’s liking. “And Malia dated him, more like.”

“It’s okay to let people let you in.” Theo frowned. There. Liam’s candor had gotten him back on track. Liam wouldn’t have been able to bear another one of his silent rebuttals. “All in”, he had repeated after Mason, earlier on the phone, while they went over his plan. But all in wasn’t as simple, when pushing too hard could spook Theo out, possibly forever. Liam wouldn’t cope well with that conclusion, either. “You’re not going to hurt them; it’s not who you are now. It never was. You’re free.”

A stunned silence met his proclamation. Though the lull remained charged with intensity, Liam’s surroundings somehow broke through his concentration, started to wash over the edge of his awareness again. He first noticed how dark the room had grown, with the sun having fully set since Theo had come home. Then, the reason he’d been able to see Theo that well in the penumbra hit him: the two sat awkwardly close, just shy of being pressed together on the couch. He hadn’t realized. Now that he had, though, he could also discern Zoey’s distinct fragrance of choice, hovering around Theo’s neck. Liam bit back a possessive growl.

“You can’t be sure...” Theo spoke, hesitant himself.

“I am.” Theo inhaled sharply.

“Then you’re…”

“I trust you.”

His best friend shook his head, but it felt less like a rejection, and more like a childish admission of overwhelming helplessness. The urge to whisk Theo away and protect him from the world surged in Liam’s belly. It clawed at his insides, and Liam tensed to stop himself from enveloping Theo in an angry hug. The chimera wouldn’t accept the offered support. So, Liam let it plow his stomach. Eventually, the older man voiced his disapproval, a litany of demurral, incessantly repeated like a mantra, each time mumbled with less confidence.

“It’s not the same.”

“You’re my best friend,” Liam breathed out, “and you haven’t hurt me.” Outside, tires screeched on the asphalt. A startled driver honked belatedly. “We moved in together months ago, and you still haven’t. I’m putting you through Hell, right now, and you’re still not lifting a claw to hurt me.”

“It’s not the same,” Theo pleaded, desperate.

Liam relented and put some space between them, relieving the burning sensation on his fingertips where his hand had been touching Theo’s. He fought the reflex to wipe his palm on his sweatpants. However, the divide he allowed between their bodies, he set out to cross with heartfelt words.

“I’ve been patient,” he teased, voice getting stronger as he developed. “How long till you acknowledge… how much closer do you have to let me crawl, until you accept that I am safe? Around you... From you. With you.”

And again, the supplication: “It’s not the same.”

“It could be,” Liam affirmed, final; and, for a split second, he wondered if he’d spun a too subtle tale, if Theo had missed who the real protagonist of the Stiles parable was. In that suspended instant between anguish and relief, Liam entertained renouncing, denying his feelings for another week or month. Or year… The illusion of reversibility didn’t last. Liam could pinpoint the exact moment Theo’s insecurities turned into aggression. He instinctively mirrored Theo’s movements when the other man burst out of the couch.

“Don’t play coy, Little Wolf! You really can’t pull it off…” Theo stated, his usual cold, emotionless tone dripping with sarcasm. But lashing out wasn’t the chimera’s preferred MO: the carefully crafted display of rage poorly mocked Liam’s own occasionally explosive reactions. He’d chosen the hard way, then, not that Liam had hoped for any other outcome. Two could play that game. Liam finally let go of his tight grip on his emotions: the red-hot wave of frustration unfurled under his skin, prickling along his nerve endings.

“Oh! Now, you want to talk about feelings?” he snarled. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“You’re pathetic,” Theo spat.

“Thanks!” Liam snarked; then, in the meanest possible way, he said: “Love you too!”

The jab hit. Theo’s whole body tensed up, as if Liam had slapped him. He shut his mouth; Liam winced at the clacking noise of knocking teeth. His best friend in the world swirled around and walked out, rigid, to his bedroom. He slammed the door close. Liam exhaled.

He slid down the couch.

He breathed.

And he waited.

From his side of the door, he could still hear Theo’s heart jackhammering against his ribs, marking an impossible tempo for Liam’s thoughts to whirl to. Had he messed this up somehow? His hand flexed around Theo’s absent fingers. Had the hand holding been pushing too far? Or had Liam broken contact too soon? Theo hadn’t abandoned their flat; maybe it was all Liam could ask for. Maybe it was all he should have asked for.

The bedroom door abruptly swung open. Theo strode across the living-room, eyes fixed on Liam’s cowering form amongst the couch cushions. Liam gulped, frantically searched the other’s face for a clue, anything to prepare himself from the inevitable onslaught. But the chimera veered at the last second, plucked the laptop from the interstice between Liam’s back and the armrest, and scurried back to his room, door banging close once more behind him.

Dumbfounded, Liam waited some more. His head rolled, heavy, on his shoulders. The kitchen lights assaulted his eyes. He should get up, he thought, and turn them off. Instead, he challenged the glare of the clock on their Craigslist’s microwave oven, vowed the LED digits to change, to mark the passage of time… He got bored before they did. Even on his Friday evening class, minutes didn’t seem to last as long. What was he even studying anyway? Was there even a world still, outside? Hadn’t it suddenly shrunk to a chimera, a couch and closed door? “All in”, he had repeated after Mason. All in.

All out.

Brisk sounds broke Liam out of this spiraling mind, and soon, Theo power-walked again through the common area, snatched the bag of Cadbury’s, and rushed back inside his quarters. Liam gazed at the spots on the painted wall. He breathed. An ambulance siren resonated on the streets below, prompting him to think about its destination. About someone, somewhere, desperately waiting for assistance. Liam wasn’t as good at helping as he had thought he was. Maybe the medics had been called for him. Maybe his heart had stopped, and he didn’t know. Maybe it was too late already…

For the third time, the door creeped open. But the chimera didn’t come out. Liam stared down the slither of darkness escaping from Theo’s refuge. He strained his ears toward it but couldn’t pick up any hint over the hushed background noise of the movie’s dialogs. He looked longer, harder, for a sign that he was reading this symbol, a door left ajar, correctly. Eventually, he shook his head. He had done enough thinking for the night, possibly for the week. He had always been recognized, and often praised, for his capacity to take action: all he had to do was to be brave, one last time. Pulling himself up, he stretched, and tip-toed across the living-room, suddenly very conscious of the padded sound of each of his steps on the carpet, of the concentric vibrations his feet sent rippling on the floor, giving away his exact location. He wondered if the chimera was tracking his movements, if he was attuning his senses toward Liam, too.

Far too soon, Liam stood in front of his roommate’s bedroom, but the opening remained too thin for him to see much. After one deep breath, he gently pushed the door open, and immediately crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. Theo laid on his side, huddled under his comforter. With the bag of Caramello Koalas snuggled against his chest and the laptop setup next to him on the mattress, he appeared to be once more thoroughly engrossed in The Departed. The blueish glow of the screen projected shadows on his face, making him appear both younger and worn out than his age. Liam focused on the slowing rhythm of Theo’s respiration, on the relaxed chemo signals floating around his space: a newfound calm after a storm. At a loss for words, he settled into his watch. After a while, Theo’s eyes, lit up by the display, flicked up toward Liam. Their gazes connected. Theo graced him with a tired half-smile, then his attention switched back to the movie. It was as good an invitation as Liam was ever going to get. He crossed the threshold. He traipsed into the room. Around the bed. Turning away from Theo, he carefully sat on the mattress. Shifting his weight, he raised and rested a leg on the sheets. He paused, offering Theo more than enough time to object. He brought up his second leg. Scooted down. Rolled around. Aligned his body with Theo’s. Stilled. Sniffed the air to check Theo’s well-being. Questioned the careful neutrality of the information he gathered. Shuffled closer. When Liam’s chest finally pressed against his back, Theo tensed, but he blindly reached for Liam’s wrist before he could move away and curled his arm around his waist. Liam nuzzled against the soft hair at his nape; and the chimera relaxed. His subvocal hum rumbled against Liam’s ribcage.

They pretended to watch The Departed for a while. Then, Theo twisted to glance above his shoulder. He studied Liam’s face while the climactic scene played out behind him. He pecked Liam’s lips. Once. And immediately leaned away, putting some space between them. His grey eyes jerked down; they wandered across Liam’s chest, monitoring his heartbeat. Liam let him, let it race while they roamed over his body, and skip when they settled back on his face, which he tried to keep open and expectant.

“You’re a sap,” Theo complained, even as he returned to the movie, burrowing himself back into Liam’s embrace.

“Shut up!” Liam retorted, overtly fond and blissfully uncaring. “It works for me.”

Theo didn’t reply right away. He waited for the rise of a complicit moon, elegantly adorned with a mantel of stars, for Liam’s consciousness to start drifting away from their shared cocoon of warmth; he waited for the ending credits to start rolling to admit, voice thick with sleep and low with bashfulness: “Yeah, I think it works for me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Fight me. Fight me till our hearts stop beating."


End file.
